The Knight's Temptress (Lairds of the Loch)

by Amanda Scott

  Chapter 11

  Going upstairs with the other women, Lina’s curiosity about Dougal’s arrival and his purpose in coming to Tùr Meiloach nearly overwhelmed her. But she knew that her mother would frown on expressing it on the stairway or in Lady Margaret’s presence. The older woman was intolerant of such interest in the business of others.

  Nor was Lina looking forward to private speech with Lady Aubrey, although her ladyship had said naught yet about their capture except that she was grateful for their safe return. However, Lina thought, having expected to hear the whole tale at Inch Galbraith and then hearing only about the rescue, her mother’s curiosity was likely burning holes through her customary courtesy. Also, since any such talk would likely focus on what Lina’s duty had been to Lady Margaret as their hostess, and to Lizzie…

  They had reached the fourth floor of the tower. Lady Aubrey led the way into the ladies’ solar, where the windows were open to the late-afternoon breeze.

  Lina’s loom in the corner where she usually sat was a welcome sight, and she saw Muriella hurry to her spinning wheel and touch the spindle as if to be sure that all was right with it. On the loom, a half-finished length of wool fabric in the soft shades of mossy green and red that Dree favored called to Lina, but its voice was too faint to overcome her yearning to know what was happening below.

  “Ye canna stay here by the door, lad,” Andrew said tersely after sending the messenger back down to the shore. “As ye heard, I’ve sent that lad to tell Dougal I’ll hear what he has to say. Have ye any notion what he wants?”

  Ian shook his head. “In troth, sir, when you asked me before if Pharlain might know aught of what happened at Dumbarton, I was about to say that if Dougal had returned to Arrochar, he might know more about that than I do.”

  “Was Dougal there?”

  “It was he who captured the ladies Lachina and Lizzie,” Ian said. “The man who helped me rescue them from the castle told me at the time that Dougal was at the harbor. I suspected then that he was preparing to leave for Arrochar.”

  “If he set out straightaway, he’d ken nowt o’ the rescue.”

  Ian considered telling Andrew that Dougal had planned to abduct Lina. But he wanted to know Dougal’s mission at Tùr Meiloach first. If he had come to issue threats on behalf of his father, Dougal might know little or naught of the rescue. Surely, if he had had to face James Mòr, he would still be at Dumbarton, trying to answer for missing keys and a message in the tower room signed with his initial.

  Andrew shifted impatiently, so Ian said, “I have my own suspicions about Dougal, sir. But I have no evidence yet to prove them. I need to hear what he says before I can tell if what little I do know has merit enough to share or not.”

  “Aye, good enough. But ye cannot be present, lad, nor leave the door cracked as ye did afore. I’ll talk with him in the yard, where my lads can keep watch without hearing all we say. When I’ve heard him out, I’ll come to ye, and we’ll discuss whatever he’s said to me.”

  Ian nodded, and Andrew went back outside to wait.

  “You know more than you told him,” Rob said as Ian shut the door.

  “Aye, but I dared not tell him all I know just when he has to treat with Dougal,” Ian said. “Sithee, if I tell him what that villain had planned for the lady Lina—and Lizzie, too—Andrew will throttle him and we’ll learn nowt.”

  Rob gave him a long look. Then he nodded. “Andrew could do that, aye.”

  Moving to the next landing, they waited there in the silence that develops between men who’ve known each other since childhood and hunted and made war together. They had small need for words. A look or gesture was usually enough.

  Thinking about that, Ian decided that his relationships with Alex Buchanan and Mag Galbraith were similar. He had just seen Rob more often over the years than he had seen the other two.

  He was still engaged in idle reverie when he heard the door below open.

  “We’re here, sir,” Ian said quietly, knowing Andrew would hear him.

  When the older man came around the curve in the stairway, his expression was grim. “Upstart vermin, that’s what Dougal is,” he snarled. “But we willna talk here on the stairway. My privy chamber lies above.”

  He led the way past the hall landing to the one above it, where he opened a door to a chamber smaller than Colquhoun’s at Dunglass but boasting a large, solid-looking table, shelves, and scattered stools. Leaning with his hips against the table, Andrew gestured vaguely toward two of the stools.

  Ian and Rob remained standing.

  “What did Dougal want?” Ian asked.

  “Our Lina’s hand, that’s what.” Andrew crossed his arms against his chest.

  Ian stared at him, resisting an urge to grind his teeth.

  “In marriage?” Rob asked.

  “Aye, sure, in marriage,” Andrew said, his thick, dark eyebrows knitting together. “The knave dared to tell me that such a marriage would reunite Clan Farlan. Then he had the gall to ask if I didna want such an end to the trouble and strife of the past two decades. Come to that, I expect it might serve such an end.”

  Ian felt as if the Fates had kicked the wind out of him. But he gathered enough air to say, “You didn’t… that is, you couldn’t have agreed to that.”

  Rob’s eyebrows shot up then, and Ian’s peripheral vision caught that rare sign of surprise in his friend.

  Andrew grimaced. “Nay, I couldna agree to any such thing,” he said. “The idea! As if I were caperwitted enough to believe that a clan reunified so would have aught to do with its rightful chief. I’ll see him and his da in hell first, and so I told him.” Looking from Ian to Rob and back, he added, “Sent him back to his boat with an escort and told them to keep that galley well away from our shore. Dougal could swim to it, I said, and welcome. Och, the threats he made then!”

  “What threats?” Ian demanded, although he could guess.

  “Villainous threats is what. Perverted and dishonest threats as I saw for m’self when I saw our lassie safe and smiling again. The man’s a liar and worse.”

  Dougal returned to his galley in a fury. That they had forced him to swim was an outrage. He would protect himself against the potential, if hidden, mockery of his captain and crew by pretending he had made the choice himself to swim.

  He had made it look as if he had by diving in, forgetting how cold the Loch of the Long Boats could be even at the height of summer. To ignore his chattering teeth, he made himself remember not only what had happened but also such other plans as he had in mind already to teach the contentious old devil a lesson or two.

  His anger increased when he remembered that he had done the honorable thing by requesting the right to her ladyship’s hand from her father, and giving him good reason, too. For Andrew to have rejected him so rudely was reprehensible.

  As he swam, he noted that he was warming. He also recalled how Pharlain’s men had accessed Tùr Meiloach just months ago. The distance from one side of the great waterfall to the other was not even so great at present, and the place where Andrew’s men had made him swim was close to the surface of the water. At low tide, it might be even more accessible. An army, even a small one, might never again succeed in reaching Tùr Meiloach that way. But one man could.

  He would teach Andrew Dubh a good lesson, one way or another.

  “Prithee, sir,” Ian said, controlling his impatience, “tell us what Dougal said.”

  “He said he’d tell the world that he’s had his way with our Lina, even shared her with his men. Och, but I wanted to hang him from the tree outside me gate right then! In short, if Dougal canna have her, he’ll murder her reputation. So, in my fury, I’ve condemned my daughter to the sad future of an unmarried, unwanted woman. A future in which others will revile her, if Dougal has his say. Och, I’m a villain m’self to do such a vile thing. Mayhap I should think more on it, unless…”

  He looked at Rob, who stared silently, blankly back at him.

  After a gl
ance at Ian, Andrew chose a point midway between the two men and said with a slight, self-deprecating shrug, “I dinna suppose ye’d… either o’ ye… be willing to marry the poor lassie and save her from such a dreadful fate.”

  Ian saw the pit yawning before him, but he barely heeded it. Having saved Lina from one wretched fate, he did not want to watch her fall victim to another.

  Impulsively, he said, “I… I’d be willing to give the idea some thought, sir.”

  “Good lad,” Andrew said cheerfully. “I’ll let ye have her. I doubt that your father or your lady mother will object. They’ve both long since taken a liking to our lass. Forbye, since our lands abut, such a marriage would suit us all gey well.”

  Ian could not argue that point. His father would approve, especially if Andrew were able to reclaim the vast lands of Arrochar north of Tùr Meiloach.

  Andrew claimed to possess the original charters to Arrochar and needed only to show them to the King. However, Jamie’s chief concern was to reclaim the royal properties that his uncle Albany had given away to build his nefarious alliances while conspiring to keep Jamie captive for two decades in England. Nevertheless, Jamie had promised in Ian’s hearing to provide Andrew the opportunity he sought as soon as the King could arrange a meeting at Inverness with the Highland chiefs.

  He hoped to do that soon, to learn who was loyal to him and who was not.

  Meeting Andrew’s steady gaze, Ian said, “Did you really tell Dougal that you would see him and Pharlain in hell before you would let Lina marry him?”

  “I did, aye. After he made his vile threats, I also told him I’d gut him and feed his entrails to the beasts o’ the forest here afore I’d give him our Lina.” He added mildly, “I think the man understands that I didna like the notion.”

  Hearing a strange sound from Rob, Ian darted a glance at him to see that his friend had clapped a hand to his mouth. Above it, his eyes twinkled merrily.

  “Did you just laugh?” Ian demanded.

  Rob shook his head, lowered his hand, and eyes still atwinkle, said, “I choked.” Extending a hand to Andrew, he said, “It is an honor to know you, sir.”

  “Aye, good, for I’ve one more daughter t’ marry off, ye ken—our Muriella. She’s a mite young yet, her mam says. But if ye’d be interested…”

  Sobering instantly, Rob said, “You do me great honor, my lord, and I thank you. But I’ll not inflict myself so on any female at present.”

  Andrew gave him a long look but said no more on the subject of Muriella.

  Instead, he turned to Ian and said, “Shall we send for our Lina and tell her the good news, lad? Or d’ye need me to tell ye what a rare prize the lassie is, so ye can think more on the notion?”

  Ian’s thoughts had flown to Lina’s likely reaction to the “good news.” She would scarcely receive it as such.

  But Andrew’s suggestion that she was a rare prize gave him pause, because he knew that was true. She was as beautiful in her own way as Andrena was and much more comfortable to talk to. She was quick-witted, kind, thoughtful, and she possessed composure beyond her years, a quality that calmed and impressed him even when it stirred his ever-mischievous attempts to undo it.

  Just the thought of taking her to his bed…

  Before he could change his mind, he said, “By heaven, I’ll do it.”

  “Art sure?” Andrew asked.

  “I am, aye,” Ian said. Avoiding Rob’s gaze, he added firmly, “See you, sir, the Colquhoun name linked with yours should silence Dougal. But we cannot wait long if we are to disarm his threats. Forbye, I have a duty to which I soon must attend, and I rarely need much time or prolonged thought to know my own mind. If Lady Lina is willing, we should marry straightaway.”

  “So I thought, m’self,” Andrew said.

  Looking at Rob, Ian saw that he’d surprised him again. In truth, he was surprised himself at how deftly Andrew had manipulated him. He could see now that Andrew had, and gey easily, too. But Ian had let him, and he felt no remorse.

  He did wonder, though, if the so-called magical properties of Tùr Meiloach included bewitching men to marry its women.

  He would ask Mag for his opinion on that question.

  Meantime, he heard Andrew order a gillie to fetch Lina.

  Having indulged in a relaxing bath, Lina was back in the solar at her loom, working quietly and listening with half an ear to Murie and Lizzie, while Ansuz, her orange and white cat, lay curled near her feet, purring. The younger girls were comparing the merits of living on a cliff above the Loch of the Long Boats to those of living in a tower on an islet in Loch Lomond. The breeze drifting in through the open shutters had cooled. But the solar was not yet cool enough to warrant a fire.

  Lady Aubrey and Lady Margaret stitched silently if companionably near the window, where the light was strongest.

  “I love Tùr Meiloach,” Lizzie said. “You have more people around you here than we do on Inch Galbraith. Moreover, you have your sisters and mother to—”

  Glancing up to see what had stopped her midsentence, Lina saw that the door had opened to admit Tibby, looking wide-eyed and wary.

  Dropping a curtsy to Lady Aubrey, Tibby said, “Himself would see the lady Lina at once, m’lady. In his chamber below, he said.”

  “Why, it is nearly time for supper,” Lady Margaret said, frowning.

  “It is, aye, m’lady,” Tibby replied, bobbing another curtsy in her ladyship’s direction. “But Himself does want to see the lady Lina straightaway.” She cast Lina a sympathetic look.

  Oblivious to it, Muriella said, “Prithee, Lina, make haste. We’re famished!”

  Feeling only curiosity and an odd tremor or two, Lina looked at her mother.

  Lady Aubrey smiled. “Go along, dearling. You must not keep him waiting.”

  Setting down her shuttle, Lina followed Tibby out and closed the door. The orange cat slipped through the narrowing doorway at the last minute.

  “Tib, did the laird say any more?” Lina asked.

  “I dinna ken, m’lady. One o’ the lads told me tae fetch ye to him.”

  That information increased the strange tremors Lina had felt when Tibby had entered the solar. Her father did not frighten her, although he could be loud in his anger and intolerant of misbehavior. But she had not misbehaved. Nor had she ever trembled before when summoned to his presence.

  She was trembling now, though. At the door to Andrew’s privy chamber, she paused to draw a breath and let it out while Tibby scooped up the indignant cat.

  As Tibby vanished round the next turn of the stairs, Lina rapped on the door.

  Rob MacAulay opened it. He filled the doorway, but she knew that Ian was behind him in the room, with Andrew, and the knowledge did not reassure her.

  Rob stepped aside for her to enter. Then, to Andrew, he said, “You do not require my presence, sir. I’ll find someplace to clean myself up for supper.”

  “You and Ian can share the chamber just above us, opposite the ladies’ solar,” Andrew said. “Ye’ll ken which is which, because ye’ll hear our Muriella’s voice a-nattering away behind the other one. Forbye, Peter Wylie will likely have taken that Hak chappie up there already.”

  “Nodding, Rob went out and shut the door behind him.

  Aware that her skin was prickling as if she had fallen into a patch of nettles, Lina strove to act as if she were merely curious and said, “You sent for me, sir.”

  “I did, aye, for we ha’ good news for ye,” Andrew said. “Um… sithee, Sir Ian here has… That is to say, I have agreed to let ye marry Sir Ian Colquhoun.”

  The voice at the back of her head shrieked, “What?” Forcing herself to ignore it, Lina gathered her dignity and said as mildly as she could, “This is a surprise, sir. You must have your reasons, but I doubt that Colquhoun or his lady kens aught of so sudden a decision. May I at least ask where you expect us to live?”

  Raising his bushy eyebrows, Andrew looked at Ian.

  Ian had been imagining ways to
punish Rob for abandoning him, so he satisfied himself by shooting a look of irritation at Andrew.

  Andrew met it blandly, and silently.

  Marveling at Lina’s composure, despite the stress he sensed in her, Ian said, “Your father neglected to mention one important detail, my lady. You know that Dougal MacPharlain came here to speak to him. What you do not know is that Dougal requested your hand in marriage and made certain threats…” He paused, knowing that she could easily fill in the rest.

  “The same as he made before, I expect,” she said. “To render me unworthy?”

  “Aye,” he said. “As to where we might live, I believe you are fond of Craggan Tower. If Craggan would suit you, we can live there. I ken fine that you would liefer stay near your family than be even as far away as the river Clyde.”

  Lina stared at him. She had often imagined how pleasant it would be to live forever near her family after she had her own home with her children and her then-unidentified husband. She had never confided as much to anyone else, though.

  And Sir Ian as that husband? Never had she imagined such a future as that. Nor did he want to marry anyone yet. He had said so without equivocation.

  However, living at Craggan would make up for much if she did marry him, and Dougal’s actions and threats had left her little choice about that—if Ian was truly willing. Also, his duties to his father and the King would keep him busy and yet allow him to be home often enough to provide the children she wanted.

  It occurred to her then that, despite the faults that occasionally stirred her annoyance, he also had many good qualities. He was handsome enough to suit the most particular female, and he possessed undeniable charm. He was an avid listener, he seemed to like her, and he had that unusual ability to excite her senses just by being near her. He could also make her laugh.